Understanding the Invisible Labor of Anxiety

People usually assume that I’m calm, cool, and collected, but that’s only because I hide what I’m really feeling underneath.  Some might say to me, “You seem fine,” or “You’re handling it so well.”  And in many ways, I am, but what others don’t see is the invisible labor that anxiety demands every single day. 

Living with anxiety isn’t just a feeling, it’s a constant form of work.  It’s the mental outline of everything that runs through my mind about of all the “what ifs.” “Did I say the right thing? Did I forget something? What if everything goes wrong?  It’s the exhausting assumptions I make in social situations and the repeated rehearsals I conduct in my head that make me retreat inward.   

Sometimes anxiety feels like a state of paranoia, as if all eyes are on me.  For some reason I jokingly like to think that I’m the center of attention and the world revolves around me.  But I can’t always help but feel like everyone is watching my every move, judging me, critiquing me.  It’s exhausting, and it feels nearly impossible to be kind to yourself when your trapped in anxiety and self-doubt. 

Anxiety not only lives in my mind, but my body as well.  I have the tight shoulders, a racing heart, shallow breathing, stomach knots and constant headaches.  My shoulders especially have a lot of tension built up.  I like to refer to it as my knots upon knots, but in all honesty, it feels like a heavy weight resting there all the time.  The physical symptoms are often hidden behind my “smile,” or my “calm exterior.”  No one sees how much energy it takes to appear “normal” while your body is in constant alert mode.  

Having anxiety means developing countless coping mechanisms, many of which are invisible.  I quietly do deep breathing exercises before making or answering a call.  I rehearse social interactions in my head, so I don’t stumble in conversations.  I’ll retreat to a quiet corner to recover from overstimulation.  These strategies are vital, but it’s hard to see them.  They’re private battles that are fought alone. 

Then there’s the emotional effort of managing how my anxiety affects others.  I often feel guilty for being “difficult” or “moody.” I find myself consistently apologizing for taking up space and hiding my panic, so my friends and family don’t worry.  Every moment of suppression is an extra effort, and it takes a lot of inner strength to fight through it and keep going. 

Despite all the things I quietly go through, it’s a reminder that even though I live with anxiety, it doesn’t beat me.  I’m fiercer and more capable than I think I am.  I’ve been acknowledging my efforts and have given myself some leniency to transform that weight of anxiety into a reminder of my strength and resilience.  

“Anxiety is love’s greatest lesson: it teaches us how strong we are, even when we feel weak.”

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